White plastic chairs of this ilk are seen everywhere, all over the world. I've seen versions of them used to do good, made into wheelchairs for people in Third World countries. More frequently, I've seen their plastic carcasses polluting the rivers, caught in the limbs of fallen trees coated with silt and brown plastic shopping bags.
They're used everywhere because they're
This chair though, sitting beneath the only tree on that stretch of road, did not seem to be abandoned; it just looked as though it were somehow meditating, waiting for someone with whom it could share both the shade and the view.
The chair is its own throne, the tree and its shade is the castle.
Their realm is behind them -- at the trees in the background
and the stream just beyond.